


Between Scenes

by Sirifall



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Aro/Ace relationships, Childhood Trauma, Claustrophobia, Dancing, Drunkenness, Emotional Abuse (past), Literal Sleeping Together, Memory Loss, Past Abuse, Team Bonding, parental abuse (past), unreality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29540886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: A bunch of ficlets for my dnd group.
Relationships: Cranberi Lightner & Freedon Gordman, Cranberi Lightner/Nami Precip, Freedon Gordman/Barnaby Calzone, Joemin & Cranberi Lightner, Kilgon & Cranberi Lightner, Kisia Nimbleslayer & everyone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Reincarnation





	1. Take a Nap

Freedon Gordman doesn’t get to have naps anymore.

It wasn’t like he had been constantly searching for nap spots before—actually, maybe that’s a lie, he does remember needing a few hovels to collapse in over the last two decades. A good few hovels. But those weren’t for pleasure, they were less ‘naps’ and more ‘if I don’t close my eyes in the next ten minutes I’ll end up doing something stupid enough to get me killed’. He knows the difference.

But those twenty years took a toll. He just can’t bring himself to nap anymore. The closest he gets is magically-induced comas and the occasional full night of sleep.

Gods sake, he just wants a nap.

And he’s going to get one, damn it.

Nothing is going on right now. The team is taking a well-deserved break at a seedy inn, and everything else can wait until they’re done. He can and will stab anyone that tries his patience at this point; the beefy, well-armored people surrounding the bar can come try to rob him, because he can guarantee they won’t be getting what they bargain for.

Grounding breaths, Freedon. Focus.

He’s going to keep watch tonight. It doesn’t matter that they’re in an inn, he still gets the feeling that letting his guard down here is a bad idea. So he’s going to try having a nap while it’s still daylight and hopefully not be caught completely by surprise when the next emergency comes along.

He nods to himself and stands, vacating his table under the multiple sets of watchful eyes around the room. These people dig at his senses. He can feel every glance almost as if they’re physically touching him. He doesn’t want to be here. Keeping watch is a good idea.

Freedon passes through the bar and climbs up the stairs to their already-purchased rooms.

(Thank fuck Linan had been so obscenely rich. Their gold count is still in the thousands even months after her death. He sends a wisp of regret to the thought of her: _wish it didn’t have to end that way_. She had been a friend once, after all.)

He’s sharing with Barnaby, as is customary. They’re a package deal. The shorter man is currently looking over their map at the small desk set in the corner, but he looks up when Freedon enters.

“How’s it lookin’ down there?”

He makes a face. _‘Bad,’_ he signs. _‘Wouldn’t be surprised if we got jumped tonight.’_

“Damn it.” Barns bites his lip, thinking. “Maybe we ought to leave.”

_‘After paying already? We’d be followed.’_

“Hrm.” He sighs, a little stronger. “Guess we’ll post up watch, then. Joemin or Cranberi, considering they’re already night owls.” He thinks on it. There are multiple things a person has to take into account when assigning watch duty: mostly, whether or not the assigned can be trusted to stay awake until the next shift comes along.

Two guesses on who he settles on, and the first doesn’t count. “Cranberi.”

Freedon looks away.

They’re still having… some trouble. Trusting Joemin again. After the things that happened a few months ago, after Nami and Cranberi nearly died trying to save the half-orc from a curse that he’d told none of them about, completely ignoring how much danger it put the rest of the team in. He’s cornered Cran a few times since the event, and the things she’s told him about it sound more nightmare than reality.

( _‘I still feel guilty,’_ she signed to him one night, Joemin leaning into her side and fast asleep. She’d been pushing herself to take on more and more watch shifts for his sake, saying the man can’t sleep unless someone he trusts is awake. _‘That wizard Grithon sent us to was only trying to help. I made her help.’_

_‘It wasn’t your fault.’_

_‘I know that. Logically. But she’s still dead because we were there.’_ She sighed, looking to Joemin. _‘There’s only so much blame I can put on other people. We were there. We could’ve done something. We just weren’t fast enough.’_

And Freedon had looked at Joemin, sleeping soundly while his friend pushed herself to her limits to keep him secure, and thought ‘you had better be worth this’.)

Yeah, they’re still having trouble.

 _‘I’ll pass it on,’_ he signs back.

“Cool. Hey, make sure that cut she got earlier is healed!” Barns says as he leaves, referring to the few scratches she got from a fence a short walk down the road. “She’s super fucking bad about that, don’t let her forget!”

He waves him off and heads down the hall.

Cranberi is sharing with Nami and Joemin, again, as is customary. It used to be just her and Nami, but. Well.

Thankfully everyone else seems to be out exploring the town (Freedon hopes they’re not getting into trouble) so Cran is alone. She’s sat on one of the beds with a small journal resting on her knee, obviously not really focusing at it because she looks up as soon as he opens the door. “You’re back early.”

He shrugs. _‘Have a feeling we might have a rough night.’_

She huffs and closes her journal. “Figures. I guess I was going to take first watch anyway.”

Freedon frowns and swats at her. _‘You’re not taking the whole night. I’m helping you.’_

“I got it! I’m—”

 _‘A Tabaxi. I’m aware.’_ She’s said it so many times now, how her naturally nocturnal race gives her a leg up on how long she can stay awake for. They’re all tired of it. She needs to sleep. _‘I’m going to take a fucking nap if it kills me, though, so you’ll just have to deal with having company.’_

Cran snorts. “Maybe don’t let it get that far.”

_‘I might.’_

“Don’t.” She shakes her head, throwing the journal to the side where it bounces off the top of her bag and onto the floor. “Guess I’m due for a nap, too, if I’m going to deal with your nagging all night.”

He rolls his eyes. _‘Speaking of—’_

“Ha!”

 _‘Shut up!’_ He gives her a rare smile. _‘SPEAKING OF. Barns says I need to check your cut from earlier.’_

Cranberi freezes. One paw slowly drifts behind her back. “Uh.”

 _‘… Just heal it.’_ This girl is going to give him gray hairs. Oh wait. _‘If you get an infection from a stupid fence I’ll never let you live it down.’_

“It’s healed, it’s healed!” She holds up her now-healed paw. There’s still a bit of magic glowing there. “See!”

_‘Good.’_

She pouts at him. Usually, this would be the end of the conversation.

Freedon looks at her.

Cranberi is… a cat.

He’s not stupid. He doesn’t look at Cranberi and go ‘oh hey that’s a weird looking elf’ even if he’d never really encountered many Tabaxis before knowing her. This realization makes total and complete sense in context.

See, Freedon is tired. This has been established. Once he leaves this room he will be going back to Barnaby and beg the man to cast Sleep on him for a few hours when he eventually gives up on trying to sleep himself. He can see it all play out in his head because it’s happened before.

But what if he… doesn’t?

Because, the thing is, he remembers a paper he’s read – in the vague, loose sense that he remembers anything from the last few decades – claiming that having a cat nearby while trying to sleep makes it easier, or something. Maybe it was about cats purring? He has no idea, but also Cranberi is a cat and is right here.

So he considers. Weighs his options. He could just have Barnaby waste a spell on him, or he could try asking Cran. It would just be a nap- nothing she hasn’t done with the others a thousand and one times before.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Something on my face?”

_‘Thinking.’_

She waits. “… About?”

_‘Joining you for a nap.’_

Cranberi blinks. “I- well, I guess you’re- welcome to? Yeah, I mean, you can if you want?”

Freedon takes another second to consider it and, okay, maybe he does want.

_‘Scooch over.’_

She does. Her tail flicks back and forth where it hangs off the bed: either she’s thinking hard, or she doesn’t know what to think, and he’s pretty sure he knows which it is. But she said it was alright, so he’s going to do it. Plus, he’s _heard_ her when people sometimes nudge up to her in their sleep – Joemin and Nami get the honor most often, but Barnaby has told him in detail how nice it is to sleep next to Cran, and he’s witnessed the girl cuddling up to Kisia’s absolute wall of warmth more than once.

Everyone knows she does it. No one talks about it, but they all know.

Cranberi purrs hard enough to rattle all of them. Freedon is going to use it to his advantage and maybe, _maybe_ , have a nice goddamn nap.

But first. _‘You’ll tell me if you get uncomfortable.’_

“Uh, sure? Yeah.”

Great. He moves onto the bed.

She’s a bit stiff. Expected, considering he’s never really done this before. She’s rested against and seeped the heat off of most of them with the exception of Freedon and Kilgon: Freedon because he mostly reserves this stuff for Barnaby, and Kilgon because he just doesn’t like being touched. But she trusts him, he’s pretty sure. He counts her as a close friend. Hopefully she’ll relax.

They get comfy. It takes some doing. Eventually it ends with Freedon sitting against the small headboard, keeping his posture relaxed with the use of multiple pillows, and Cranberi’s head resting cautiously against his shoulder.

He takes a deep breath. _‘Good?’_

“Yeah.” Her voice is quiet. “I’m good.”

Freedon nods.

The next few minutes crawl by. It seems Cranberi finally realizes that he’s not going to leave, so she re-situates herself until she’s _actually_ comfortable and not just resting her head. The weight she puts against Freedon’s side is grounding him already, and he forces his shoulders to sag. Her head gets placed against him once again, this time with her short, curly hair tickling at his ear.

Fuck.

He shrugs slightly. She takes it the wrong way and sits up.

Freedon shakes his head at her. _‘No, it’s okay. Just your hair on my ear.’_

It’s awkward as hell. She settles her head against him again, slowly like she’s giving him time to second-guess things, but he’s not leaving. He’s committed himself to this process, damn it, so he’s going to stay until they’re both asleep or until Cranberi kicks him out herself.

Three minutes. She relaxes, finally.

Five minutes. He’s pretty sure her eyes are closed now.

Ten minutes.

… She’s sleeping.

He basks in it.

It feels _so nice_. All the weight in her upper body is on his side now, and if he strains his hearing Freedon can just make out the sound of her breath starting to rattle. It’s quiet, but it will get louder. He just has to wait. Her ears flick every few minutes – he feels them against his cheek. Thank god her hair isn’t touching his ear anymore, because he would have gotten overloaded at least fifteen times now.

Actually, he’s always wondered…

Slowly, he lifts his free hand to her head and softly- _holy shit he has to be so careful_ \- scritches at her hairline.

His entire left side shakes with the amount of purring that bursts from her chest. His eyes go wide as saucers and he has to tense up to keep himself from laughing, because oh god, how long has she been keeping _this_ a secret? Cranberi actually likes people touching her hair? Are you KIDDING?

She nuzzles into his neck. Fucking adorable. No wonder she never lets anyone do this, he’s not even sure she wouldn’t get pissed off with _him_ doing this. However nice it was before, this is a thousand times better.

His eyes are already half closed. Freedon slowly pulls his fingers through her curls again just to hear the volume spike.

He’s asleep within minutes. He swears to himself that he’s going to get her a gift basket or something later, but for now, it’s nap time.

(Hell _yes._ )


	2. Cave-in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shared trauma is great for bonding.

Cranberi really doesn’t like being underground.

She’s fine! Of course she’s fine, she’s always fine. But there’s nothing like feeling the chill of air that hasn’t seen sunlight in however long, or looking up and seeing the face of what could only be tons upon tons of rock, knowing that there are only a few ways out open to you and being a fair distance from every single one. She can’t make up her mind about where in the group she wants to be: in the front, to take the lead on an escape? In back, the first to notice if there are any cracks widening from the group passing through? Or in the middle, not safe, but at least surrounded by things a little more understanding than stone?

She walks a bit behind everyone else. The cave system they’re in isn’t even a natural cave: there are fortified halls and stairs carved in at certain places. Cranberi is worried about getting lost, but only in a vague sense. She still remembers how to get out from here.

The rest of the group is… mostly fine? Mostly fine.

It’s obvious that none of them are fans of this expedition. If it’s not the close quarters, it’s the cold, and if it’s not the cold it’s the lack of sky. Kisia has been stooping so much lower than she needs to, and Freedon is getting progressively more twitchy the further they walk. Both of them are gravitating more toward the back of the group along with her while everyone else seems to be in a hurry to move forward.

They’re fine. They’re all going to be fine. The caves have held out for this long, so they’ll most likely hold until everyone’s out.

In the meantime, she comes up next to Freedon. No one really wants to break the silence, so when she has his attention she starts signing instead. _‘How are you holding up?’_

 _‘Bad,’_ he answers immediately. _‘I hate this.’_

Huh. There goes a casual, distracting conversation. Fair enough. _‘We should be about halfway through,’_ she signs, looking back at the ground they’ve already covered. With the torchlight she can see pretty far, but the dark takes over eventually. She can’t see the entrance from here.

_‘Are you sure we couldn’t have just gone over?’_

_‘All the maps said it would’ve taken three days,’_ she signs back. _‘We’re on a time crunch.’_

_‘If someone was watching Bo—’_

She looks away from him. She doesn’t want to see him finish that sentence.

And it’s true. While she’s worried about their safety in this cave system, she’s absolutely frantic over her missing companion. Bo is one of the first gifts she had ever gotten from her goddess, and he’s become so important to her – the giant bug may not be too smart, but he’s the best pet she’s ever had. With Bo, they would have gone over this entire cave system and the treacherous cliffs sitting above them easily.

Without Bo, they’re stuck underground.

They didn’t have time to go find him. They never seem to have time. She misses her friend.

Cranberi feels a touch on her shoulder. She shrugs him off – he can’t make her look at him, so she’s not going to. He’s touchy because they’re underground, fine, but she doesn’t have to be involved. They’re all going to come out in one piece on the other side, and then they’ll go on the complete their mission, and after that she can finally devote time to doing the things that she’s been trying to do ever since day fucking _one_.

She hears someone kick a pebble. Everyone in front of her freezes.

_click_

_crick_

She looks around. No one is moving. There are no pebbles being kicked.

Where is the noise coming from…?

_Click_

Something hits her shoulder. She flinches away, bumping into Freedon on her other side, and looks down to see a chunk of rock rolling on the floor. It’s not until she’s looking up to see where it came from does she realize.

They’re surrounded by decaying cave walls.

There are spiderweb cracks throughout the ceiling above the two of them. Another chunk falls just above her and she has to pull Freedon out of the way from where he’s frozen in shock. The sound it makes hitting the stone floor may as well be a death toll.

She glances to the ceiling above the rest of the group. It’s not splintering as much, but with that final sound echoing through the tunnel she already knows they’re out of time.

At least the last time she came this close to dying she had a moment to hold Nami’s hand first.

The stone above them gives.

The next few moments are a blur. She hears screaming, nearly everyone’s voices ringing out in the enclosed space and mixing painfully with the sound of collapsing rock. She has a paw fisted in Freedon’s chainmail that she uses to haul him back from a boulder that would have crushed him flat otherwise, and in a moment of complete and utter instinct she steps forward into his space and forces his head down, makes him take cover under her arms as she braces herself against the largest section that had come down.

Immediately after, an even larger piece screeches down, hitting just where she had been standing. Dust gets into her airways. Rocks clatter and clang around her. The entire world seems to groan with the strain of gravity. She feels the earth settle gently against her back.

And then it’s over.

She coughs.

It’s dark. She can only barely see, even with natural darkvision. Her ears ring from the amount of input just a few moments before, and now the only thing she hears is a high-pitched, continuous squeak and heavy breathing.

Two people’s heavy breathing. Freedon is crouched under her. She’s still standing.

She goes to move, and as soon as she tries to straighten up something large hits her back and _groans_. She freezes in fear and a few rocks slide loose from the apparently semi-stable formation that has somehow fallen into place above them. Lucky. Lucky. Lucky. She is grateful.

Thankfully her arms aren’t pinned. She reaches down and feels her team member’s shoulder. He keeps breathing like he’s run a marathon, and honestly, she’s not much better.

She doesn’t want to move. Neither of them can move. They might disturb the world’s heaviest tower of cards sitting just on top of their heads, and she’s not ready for those consequences.

“Freedon,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond – not even a twitch. She grasps his shoulder a little harder, just in case he can’t feel her over the adrenaline. “ _Freedon._ ”

She can just barely see his hands.

He’s signing _‘no’_. Over and over again, like it’s a nervous tik instead of a denial.

Shit. She strains her hearing past the ringing, but she still can’t make out the sounds of the others. They must still be alive, right? They have to be nearby. They have to be okay and currently trying to get them out because- because if she and Freedon are the only ones left and- and they’re trapped-

Oh, goddess, okay. Time to block off that thought. The others are working on it. They have to be.

In the meantime, she needs to deal with this.

Freedon is still signing _‘no’_ over and over and over, just going through the motion. He might not even realize she’s here. That’s going to be a problem, considering she needs to calm him down but also cannot move.

Okay. Calm. What’s calming to him?

Barnaby. Easily, Barnaby is the only person, the only thought that works reliably. How can she make him think of Barnaby when she can’t even move enough to make him look at her? She can’t sign at him if he’s not _looking_ , and he obviously can’t hear her.

… Can he?

“Hmm-hmm-hmm…” She hums out.

Barnaby is a bard. She’s heard his songs around the fire, but more than that, she’s heard that quiet measure he sings when he thinks they’re the only two awake. Her voice is scratchy and she doesn’t hit the notes as smoothly, but maybe it’ll still work. “Hm-hm hm-hm,

 _“Wake up,”_ she sings, _“say good morning to that sleepy person lying next to you. If there’s no one there, then there’s no one there, but at least the war is over.”_

He’s still breathing hard. Hopefully she’s not just wasting air.

_“It’s us, yes we’re back again. Here to see you through ‘til the day’s end. And if the night comes – and the night will come – well at least the war is over.”_

Singing will never come naturally to her. This is useless, but she doesn’t have anything else. It’s not working, but she can’t think of any other way.

 _“Lift your head and look out the window. Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go._ Come on, Freedon. _Listen, the birds sing. Listen, the bells ring.”_

Miraculously, his breathing slows.

 _“All the living are dead,”_ she chokes out, _“and the dead are all living.”_

A single, deep breath. He looks up.

He still looks _bad_. His eyes are bloodshot and the skin surrounding them is puffy and red while the rest of his face is way too pale. His glasses are still in one piece, but they’re clouded with dust and little flecks of debris. His entire body is covered in it. She’s probably not much better. Still, seeing him actually move and respond to what she’s doing is a miracle and a half. “Freedon.”

His eyes go a bit glassy when he hears his name again. _‘War is over?’_

She huffs a laugh. Figures. _“The war is over,”_ she finishes out the measure, _“and we are beginning._ We’re good, Freedon. We’re still alive. The others are just- just on the other side, and they’re gonna get us out, okay?”

Cranberi had honestly thought it was impossible for him to tense up more, but he proves her wrong.

“Don’t move,” she says quickly. “Holy shit, do not move. We just have to wait it out, okay? Just stay sitting there and don’t move.”

His fingers twitch. _‘Small.’_

“I know. It’s okay.”

 _‘Cramped,’_ he continues. _‘Can’t breathe.’_

It hits her suddenly. Gods, he’s claustrophobic.

She didn’t know he was claustrophobic! It never- it never _came up_! She doesn’t just wander around asking her teammates ‘oh hey by the way what’s your greatest fear just in case we run into it later’!

Shit, she needs to get him out _now_ but moving could make this cramped pocket of air so much less survivable.

“Freedon,” she says again, and he twitches. “Hey, you can. You can close your eyes if you need to. Are you closing your eyes? Okay, just listen, alright? You resting against the wall of a pretty average-sized room. I’m leaning on the same wall, but I’m standing. Everyone else is just outside, but while we’re in here we’re going to play a game to pass the time, alright? Yes?”

He nods. She loosens her hold on his shoulder.

“Only rules are that you have to keep your eyes closed and answer the questions. Not too hard, right?” She doesn’t need an answer to that one, but he signs _‘yes’_ so forcefully that she doesn’t waste any more time. “Okay. What’s your favorite season?”

_‘Spring.’_

“Why?”

 _‘New,’_ he signs. _‘Chilly. Free. Life.’_

“I can understand that. Have you ever had a favorite bird?”

_‘Yes.’_

“What was it?”

_‘Orange. O-R-I-O-L-E.’_

“What does it look like?”

A rock tumbles from the mass above them and onto his back. He freezes.

Cran takes a deep breath. There’s nothing else she can do. “… Freedon? Hey, what does an oriole look like?”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment.

_‘… Black. Orange. Small.’_

“Have you ever thought of how it’d be to fly?”

 _‘Big.’_ He signs immediately. _‘Fast. Free.’_

“Do you like flying on- on Bo?”

He tenses. _‘… Yes. Sorry.’_

“It’s fine,” she says, not even sparing a second to think about what he’s apologizing for. “What’s your favorite bug?”

_‘Praying M-A-N-T-I-S.’_

“Really? Why?”

Freedon sort of… sways in place. _‘Cute. Sharp.’_

“Cute and sharp?” She laughs. “I guess. I got buzzed by a mantis once. It was, uh,” no you idiot, keep playing the game so he can stay calm what are you doing—she needs to sound natural, damn it, or it won't work as well— “in the summer. I was walking outside under a tree and just got this face-full of bug. Scared the shit out of me. It was trying to escape some bird that flew away when it saw me.”

_‘Smart. Good.’_

“First time I actually got attached to a bug.”

 _‘Smart,’_ he signs again, even more insistent. _‘Good.’_

The rocks above them shift.

Her breathing stops completely when she feels the press of stone on her back again. Her paw clenches on Freedon’s shoulder, gripping him hard enough to be painful.

He covers it with his hand.

(She and Nami are tied and bound. The bastard laughs when she tries to lunge forward, to force his black heart out of the body of her friend, and when he snaps she chokes on tar. She reaches a hand out to Nami and feels her take it.)

“You know. I hate the charm spell.” She swallows. “Worst spell in the world.”

He rubs a thumb along her paw. _‘Why?’_

“Hate going under. Hate that I don’t know what I’m doing until after.” She breathes. “You remember, back in that haunted lodge in Teyeth? When Nami charmed me? I nearly quit then. When I came out of it I was about to call off my contract.”

He turns his head towards her. His eyes are still closed.

_‘… Fake magic.’_

“Illusions?”

He nods. _‘Years alone. Made me see things. Didn’t want to see.’_

She holds herself back from asking the obvious questions. Questions like ‘who would fucking _dare_ ’ and ‘what did they make you see’. Those things aren’t helpful, and she doesn’t need to know. But she still feels that rabid anger burn in her chest with an intensity she hasn’t felt in a while.

“… Back when I lived in Felu,” she says, and it feels so long ago now, “I was even more of an asshole. Didn’t listen to anyone but Mother. I met this half-elf, Alyyz, and first conversation we had I ended up screaming at her.” Cranberi pauses. “I feel like she and Nami are a lot alike. I don’t think I like what that says about me, though. Who I used to be.”

 _‘Better than me,’_ he gestures. _‘I killed people.’_

Her heart hurts. “Was it worth it?”

_‘… Maybe.’_

The rocks shift. Cranberi braces herself.

“-reful! Slow, slow—”

She looks up.

There’s torchlight. She can see torchlight through one of the cracks. They’re- they’re here, they _survived_.

“Hey!” She shouts. The voices on the other side pause. “ _Hey!_ We- we’re okay! We have a pocket in here, but the biggest bit is over us!”

She hears scrabbling. “Freedon? Is he okay, can you see him?”

“He’s fine. Just get us out of here!”

Cranberi looks down to see his eyes wide open, staring at the light. He’s fine.

They’re fine.


	3. The library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kilgon does a funny joke.

Oh, there’s a person here.

Oh hey, he knows this person. Guess Cranberi got bored of sitting in her room staring at walls and decided to come hang with the cool kids. The cool kids being Kilgon and Eliah, obviously. This is their territory after all – Kilgon has been haunting these shelves for weeks now, these books are practically his.

Well, they’re obviously either Eliah’s or Linan’s, but Eliah doesn’t go through the stacks that much and Linan’s doing other things, so they’re _his_. He is going to steal literally all of these books.

That would be a great prank, actually. Something to think about later – he already has a joke waiting in the wings. “Cranberi!”

She startles and looks at him. “Kilgon.”

“I bet you’re happy to see me here!” God he’s funny. Cranberi makes a face right on cue, like she doesn’t want to look disgusted at the idea of sharing space with him but also she can’t help it. Ah, predictable. “What’cha looking for? Y’know, I could give you some recommendations.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Aw, but I’ve got some really good ones!” He’s going to shove a children’s book at her and laugh.

But only if she gives in. She might. Every once in a while she just gets this itty-bitty-bit more patience with his jokes, and he can fit in at least one more punchline before she gets irritated and leaves. No fucking telling why the mood strikes her, but hey, it doesn’t have anything to do with him.

Actually, why does he even bother waiting for an answer? He can just shove the book at her now. And he does! With a flourish, he stands from his seat and reveals the little paperback he was hiding for just this opportunity. It’s titled _Jonny’s Sailboat_ and he was so, so happy when he found it earlier so he could continue the long-running joke of being obsessed with boats. He’s not even sure it’s a joke anymore, that’s how funny it is.

Cranberi just stands there and stares at it.

“Cool right?” He says at the lack of response. She’s probably just processing, sometimes the reactions take a minute. “I actually learned a lot! Did you know you could make a boat in _any_ shape and it still floats?”

She looks at him and leaves without a word, disappearing into the aisles.

He sighs and sits back down. Boring.

\---

“Cranberi!”

“Kilgon.” She’s reading today! He actually sort of recognizes the book she’s holding. Enough to mentally place it in the Science Fiction section, at least - not like it’s hard, the title is _The Relay Resonance_. Not many places it could go.

She looks away to keep reading as soon as they’re done greeting each other. Ugh, Kilgon really does have to do all the socialization himself, huh? Worst part is he already knows she’s not grateful for it, because Cranberi is rude like that. “It is so great to see you here! You know, I was just thinking I had some more recommendations for you.”

Cranberi gives him a sigh for his efforts. See? Ungrateful. “Do you, now?”

“I do.” He doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make some up really quick. Should he go the children’s book route again or spice it up a bit? “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!”

He strolls through the shelves. Hm, maybe the punchline this time is how long he takes finding her a book? He could keep her waiting in suspense for the other shoe to drop, except this time it _never_ does. That’s a good one! He’ll do that.

Best part is, with the ‘don’t go anywhere’ bit she really will just fucking sit there for a little while. Apparently it’s not rude to like, outright and openly be annoyed about seeing certain people, but it _is_ rude to not do what people ask her to? She’s weird. Girl’s got weird ideas about how to act, but hey, so does he. She should take his place as the ‘bully this one into therapy’ target, because he _knows_ she hasn’t been yet.

But yeah, leaving her high and dry is today’s plan. He goes to the shelf he’d been in the process of depleting yesterday and picks the next book, looking forward to getting completely lost in it for the next – he weighs it in his hand and takes a peek at the tight scrawl inside - three hours.

She hasn’t come to yell at him once he’s finished. Kilgon mentally shrugs to himself and picks the next book.

By the time he’s done, its dark enough that he can look outside and see stars. Good. He leaves the stacks quietly, just in case he comes across Eliah staring wistfully out into space (he does that sometimes) and has the opportunity to startle the shit out of him. He travels one row behind the window aisle but doesn’t see the librarian all the way to the front section, which is sad.

And then he pauses.

Cranberi’s just sitting there. Still. She’s obviously sleeping, curled up with her side resting on the back of the cushy chair she’d settled in and doing some very quiet purring. It’s not as rattling as it is when she’s next to someone else, but in the quiet of the night it’s so much louder than she would allow if she were awake.

Huh. Should he… wake her up?

… He feels a little bad now. He doesn’t even have a book for her.

He can get one real quick. Yeah. Just let her sleep, it’s not his problem where she decides to crash for the night. He’ll get a book for her and just… set it on the table in front of her, or something, and then he can leave.

What book though? He goes back between the shelves. He could just get another kid’s book, but the joke feels kind of cheap now. But also if he did, she would know it was him!

He’s still a little touched that she played along long enough to fall asleep though. Maybe he could pair the kid’s book with an actual recommendation? Put the kiddy one on top and hide the real one under it?

What does she even like reading? She had some science fiction earlier…

He ends up leaving _Miss Amelia’s Classroom_ for her to wake up to, and under that is _The Infection_. Who knows? Maybe actually following through with a recommendation this one time will make her sit through more jokes later.

\---

She’s super suspicious of him next time they run into each other. Maybe this was the punchline all along. “Kilgon.”

“Cranberi!”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He grins. “Hey, do you want me to find you another book? I was worried you wouldn’t be able to read the last one, it was a little advanced for you.”

“… Sure.”

\---

“Cranberi!”

“Kilgon.”

“Ooh, here, here, I already have something picked out for you!”

A sigh. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!”

\---

“Kilgon.”

“Wh- oh, Cranberi! Do you want another book?”

“Maybe later.”

\---

“Cranberi!”

“Kilgon.”

\---

Eliah stops to talk to him one day, which is a surprise. What’s even more surprising is the other man leading with “Stop trying to steal my job.”

Kilgon has to take a few seconds to process that one. “ _Huh_?”

“You’re stealing my job,” he says again. It’s weird, because he actually sounds like he’s joking. “You’re supposed to be collecting materials for automatons, not running my library. I’m very territorial you know.”

“Oh please,” Kilgon says, still kind of reeling from the beginning of this conversation but not about to back down, “by now this is _our_ library. I’m going to steal literally all of these books.” Wasn’t that a prank idea? He could still do that.

“You’ll have to fight me for them.”

“They love me more.”

“I’ll sue you for custody.”

“Aw, fuck,” he says laughing, “I can’t win in a court of _law_ Eliah. I hate laws.”

“Maybe back the hell off then,” Eliah responds. He’s smiling. This is maybe the most friendly conversation he’s had with the man. Is there a trick here somewhere? An illusion, maybe? “As long as you keep the recommendations to one person, but I’m watching you.”

“What are you gonna do, fire me?”

“I might.” He walks off, time for socialization apparently over.

Was he talking about _Cranberi_?

Oh wow, Kilgon thinks, it has been a while since the book-sharing joke started. It’s not his fault that they’re both constantly in the library. It only occurs to him now that it’s been a few weeks’ worth of him toting a mix of kids stories and science-fiction and Cranberi hasn’t said a word about it. What the fuck.

\---

He stares at her next time he spots her in the library.

“Kilgon.”

“… Cranberi.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. He just stares at her. “What?”

He can’t pick out any signs that she’s been replaced by some kind of mimic. And she’s just as rude as ever, so she’s not charmed. Has she really just been playing along this entire time? “I don’t have a book for you today. My bad.”

She tilts her head at him, but ultimately shrugs and goes back to the book she was already holding. “Okay.”

… Huh.

He’ll give her _Jonny’s Sailboat_ again tomorrow. It’s been long enough that the repeat will be just as funny as getting a new kids book for her.


	4. Fatherhood and the Lack Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby and Cran have a much-needed talk.
> 
> ********* CONTENT WARNING: past emotional abuse, parental abuse, and unhealthy trauma responses. The paragraphs with specific imagery are surrounded by this sign: /// **********

Barnaby was already having a shitty day when he finds Cranberi packing her things.

He’s not sure what’s wrong with him. Maybe it’s something in the air today, but his patience for things – the already short fuse he doesn’t want to admit he has – is just completely shot. The amount of times he’s apologized today to Freedon alone is fucking shameful.

He figured if anyone knew how to deal with shit like this, it’s Cranberi. So he came to visit her. Maybe to get some advice, maybe have her shove a book at him or talk to him until his emotions calm the hell down and he can talk to Freedon again without sounding like an asshole. Even though sometimes it seems like Cran is the worst of them in terms of patience, she also somehow knows exactly what to say to get people to level out.

So he walks into her room and finds Cranberi hovering over a packed bag, holding that worn journal she always has with her, and can’t bring himself to say anything other than “What the fuck?”

She looks up. “Oh. Hey Barns.”

“What’s all this?”

“I was going to swing by to tell you,” she says, grimacing. “I’m leaving for Bewau. I should probably be gone for… a month? I have some things to do.”

He looks at the bag. Glances back at her. “Okay, ignoring that you didn’t warn the rest of us about this: _what?_ Why Bewau? _Where_ in Bewau?”

“Anywhere the road takes me,” she grumbles. “It’s been too long, Barns. I love going on expeditions with everyone and helping with the farm, but I can’t put this one off anymore.” The journal goes into the bag, and she closes the top flap. “I already talked to Nami about it.”

“So Nami’s going with you.” At least that’s something. “Who else? If whatever this is will take a month, you’ll need backup. I can get Freedon—”

“Nobody’s coming with me, Barns,” she says. “This is my problem. I’m taking care of it.”

His eyes narrow. “Your problems are our problems. Someone is coming with you.”

“Barnaby, I’m not joking,” she says harshly, “I’m going alone. I’ll be back in a month.”

“No, _I’m_ not joking. You’re taking at least one of us with you.”

“Says who?”

He sputters. “Says _me!_ Hello? I’m telling you to take someone for backup!”

“I don’t need any.”

“Bullshit!”

“ _Why_ are you so up in arms about this?”

He waves his hands around. “You’re my kid! Of course I don’t—”

Cranberi snarls.

It’s loud. Loud enough to startle him into silence and put him even more on edge than he already was, because he only ever hears that noise when a fight breaks out. A _real_ fight, the kind that only one side walks away from.

And now she’s snarling at _him_.

Her mouth snaps shut and the noise cuts off, but it was there. She doesn’t even look shocked – if it were him making that sort of noise at a teammate, he would at least be a little apologetic after. Just hearing it gave him a little jolt of adrenaline, but she doesn’t even pause. “I’m not your kid.”

He gets the sense that he needs to speak very carefully.

“… Why do you say that?”

She glares at him. “Because I’m _not_ , Barns. I’m not your child. I’m not your responsibility. And I’m _not_ some useless civilian that needs an escort to go anywhere, so quit treating me like one.”

What the fuck? “I never said you were useless.”

“You didn’t have to.” Cranberi heaves a sigh. The tension in the room goes down a little. “Listen. I don’t mind you being worried over me, but we’re teammates. I’m not your daughter, and you’re not my dad.”

Unfortunately, with less tension filling the room, he has more space for anger.

“Maybe not by blood,” he says, “but you’re still—you’re not useless, but you’re still a kid, Cran! I was still young and fuckin’ stupid when I was in my twenties, and maybe you’re not the same, but you still need someone with life experience to help! I don’t want you tackling things on your own!”

And tension goes right back up again. Her ears pin back, teeth bared. “So you want me to treat you like my parent? Is that it?”

“It’d be _nice_ , yeah!”

“Fine.”

She shuts down.

///

He can actually see it happen. Her entire presence changes: in just a few seconds she goes from filling the room with anger and spite to just… blank. She looks straight ahead and her eyes stop being narrowed, just going back to some sort of default he didn’t even know she had. Her posture changes, shoulders back, standing straight up with her hands behind her. Her mouth shuts without a hint of the emotion she was showing before. Even her tail seems to go limp, settling on the ground with only the end twitching.

The change startles him out of every single thought he could have been having. Every bit of anger he’d carried with him into this room dies.

“Cranberi.”

“Yes Barnaby?”

Even her voice sounds hollow. The sound of it claws at his chest with a freezing sort of horror.

///

“Cran, don’t do this.”

She must hear something in his voice, because she stops.

Her shoulders relax. Her tail moves a little more. But even with as angry as she’d been before, now she just looks tired – like something about going through the transition switched her emotions around just as much as seeing it did for him.

“I never wanted to treat you like a parent, Barns.” She says quietly. “Because that’s what it looks like. I don’t want to just…”

That’s what it looks like.

Barnaby is going to find her parents, and he is going to _end_ them.

But first, he swallows back his anger. It’s almost easy now. “… It’s nice to be needed by someone, right?”

She looks at him. Courage, Barnaby.

“I was alone for so long, Cran. Just looking.” He’s not going to cry in front of her. He’s _not_. “I was going to give up on it all, but I still- I still needed to BE needed. A farm’s not that good of a replacement for people, but it’s all I could get. Don’t get me wrong, you know how happy I was to finally find Freedon again, but when I met you and Nami… you two are so _young_ Cranberi. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

And she shakes her head.

It hurts.

“I love you, Barns. I do.” She sighs, the rest of the tension leaving her shoulders. “But I don’t like having to be shielded from things. I swear that I’ll ask you when I need help, but having it forced on me is… it messes me up. I don’t like relying on other people. This team is the _only_ exception I’ve ever made,” she says, “the _only_ one. Because you’re with me. Because I trust you. And you can keep calling yourself my dad, but that’s _not it_.”

They fall into silence.

It fucking hurts.

“Just friends?” He asks, “just teammates?”

“Barns…” She finally goes back to normal, the last of that unnatural presence draining out of her. She looks tired. “It’s not a downgrade. I wouldn’t trust Mother with my life, much less Nami’s and Freedon’s. And I do need you, but not as a father.”

“What would you even need me for, then?”

She grumbles. “Don’t say it like that. I _do_ need you. You’re my friend, you’re- fuck, Barns, you’re _mine_. Of course I need you.”

The ugly thing in his chest smooths over a little.

He nods. “Okay. I… I can take that.”

Cranberi sighs again and looks at her bag. It’s still just as packed and ready as it had been. “Do you think… I mean. If I left tomorrow instead…”

“Do you want to stay with us tonight?”

She swallows. “Yeah.”

It’s not perfect, but it’s something.

“I think we can spare the room.”


	5. Confess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nami tries to battle Cranberi's self-worth.

The people sharing the road with them have stopped for the night, letting Nami get off her feet for the next few hours and just enjoy the warmth of one of the fires. There are at least three in this large group, and as proclaimed adventurers she and Cran have set up at the one closest to the tree line as an extra precaution.

There are other people here, and they’re all friendly enough to share stories and give some easy laughs. Some of them form groups within groups, seeming to know each other, but a few are just drifters taking the opportunity to lay their packs down and lose themselves in the crowd. It’s nice. She’s told a few stories herself, stories about giant bugs and hidden undersea kingdoms, when Cran pats her shoulder for attention and gestures to one of the other groups, the one in charge of food, clearly asking if she wants anything. Nami waves her off, not all that hungry, and watches her go on her own.

Cranberi really is sweet. She turns back to the fire.

“This seat taken?”

Nami looks up to see a human man smiling down at her. He’s wearing some sparse leather armor over plain black clothing, and his hair is cut extremely close to his scalp. There are some red markings in his pale cheeks, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone with him. Maybe he’s one of the drifters.

“Um, actually my friend is sitting here!” She answers, hopefully not offending him. “She’s getting food right now.”

His eyebrows twitch upward and he looks over to where the food is. “I just wanted to ask about some of those stories you had. How much of those is true?”

She grins, happy that someone’s curious enough to stop and talk to her. “All of it!”

“Really?” He looks impressed. “Even the giant… uh, what was it, beetle?”

“Cicada,” she gently corrects, “and his name is Bo! We can’t take him traveling much anymore, but he’s real.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm!”

He laughs a little, smiling gently at her. “That’s wild. Hey, I don’t think a caught your name earlier?”

“Oh!” She could have sworn she introduced herself to everyone, but apparently she missed some. She holds out a hand to him. “I’m Nami! My friend’s name is Cranberi.”

“Mine’s Conris.” He shakes her hand, still smiling. “Did I hear that right? Her name is cranberry?”

“It’s spelled different, but basically.”

“That’s, uh, a pretty interesting name,” he says, obviously laughing at her. Nami feels her smile wilt a bit.

“I guess so.”

“Where are you two going?”

She shrugs a bit. “Just wandering! We have a place in Rebakis, but we both like moving around a lot.”

“Yeah?” He steps a little closer. “You got room for one more?”

“No.”

Cranberi is standing behind Nami, a piece of jerky in her hand and glowering at Conris like he’d tried to spit on her gravestone. Conris himself straightens out from where he’d been slouching over Nami only to see that Cranberi is at least a foot taller than him. He holds his hands up in surrender. “It was just a question.”

“And that was just an answer.”

She frowns at her friend. “Cranberi!”

“I’m not sharing the road with some bozo that just wants to get into my best friend’s pants.” She bares her teeth at the man. “Get lost.”

Conris glances at those teeth, then to Nami, and back to Cranberi. “Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. Have a nice night.”

Nami blinks at him as he leaves.

Oh. _Oh_.

“… You didn’t have to be that mean.”

Cranberi snorts in irritation and re-takes her seat, munching on jerky. “Hm.”

Nami looks at her from the corner of her eye.

She can’t help but hope, sometimes. Times like this especially, when Cran holds their friendship a bit closer than normal. The ‘best friend’ bit still gives her a little thrill of pleasure even though they’ve been best friends for a while now, and she can’t really stop herself from leaning into the role that gives her so much sway over the other woman.

They don’t act any different. Maybe they haven’t always been this close, but to Nami, it feels like she’s had this little crush for a long, long time.

“Thanks, though.”

“Sure.” Cran tears off another strip of meat. “… If you ever actually want someone to come along with us, just tell me, okay?”

She giggles. “Okay.”

“Especially if you think I need to buy another tent.”

“OKAY, yes, yes, _shush_.” Nami swats at her, and Cranberi leans away with a laugh. “You’re awful, you’re the worst, I don’t know why I like you.”

“You love me.”

It’s exciting to hear it. It’s exciting to _say_ it. “I do.”

Cranberi just grins like she knows she’s won and continues chewing steadily through her snack. The tabaxi looks back into the fire, content with the ongoing chatter of strangers around them.

Nami just keeps looking at her though.

Cran’s really pretty. Nami just likes looking, sometimes.

“Besides,” she says, because even though she has a crush on this woman that doesn’t mean she’s going to let her _win_ , “you say that like you won’t be the one pulling someone along first!”

“What?” Cran sputters out another laugh. “Me? They’ll all be going for you.”

“No you!”

“No, you.”

“You’re so pretty, Cranberi!” It just sort of slips out, but she’s too dedicated to this argument to care. “Why wouldn’t people go for you first?”

“Please, the only people I could pull are other tabaxis. _You_ on the other hand—”

“That is a lie!”

“—You’re smart, funny, kind—”

“Thank you, but—”

“—pretty, and way more agreeable than me.”

Okay, Nami hits her shoulder for real this time. Cranberi gives her an ‘ow!’ completely out of surprise. “You are all of those things! And don’t say you could only end up with another tabaxi, that’s just wrong.”

“Okay, fine, I’d end up with people that aren’t freaked out by some very big teeth.” She shows off her maw just to make a point, fake-baring them at Nami so her canines catch the firelight. They are dangerous and threatening and so, so cool. “And then they’d get turned away from everything else I’ve got going on, which brings us right back where we started. You’re way better than me.”

She frowns harshly at her. “No! Everything about you is amazing. If you keep saying you’re not great I’ll- I’ll- I’m going to steal your sickles!”

Cranberi doesn’t even hesitate, grabbing both sickles and leaning them gently against Nami’s seat. “You’re better.”

Nami snatches them up, glaring. “These are mine now. You’re not getting them back until you admit you’re pretty.”

“I’m pretty.”

“ _And_ mean it!”

Her nose scrunches. “Nami, even for tabaxis I’m almost painfully average. I’m winning absolutely no awards over here.”

Nami can’t just say ‘you’re more beautiful than every other tabaxi I’ve met, and also at least ninety-percent of all girls ever’ so she just holds the sickles and keeps frowning at her. “You’re beautiful.”

“I guess?”

“No guessing! Say it!”

“I’m beautiful.”

“And mean it!”

“You’re gonna have to settle for this one, Nami.”

Fed up, Nami shoves the sickles at her and walks away.

She can’t believe this. Years of knowing each other and Cranberi still just doubts her judgment on these things. Years! And she doesn’t think she’s beautiful or kind or funny? What the hell gave her those ideas? Certainly not _Nami_ , that’s for sure, because Nami’s been looking (respectfully) at her and admiring her for so long even if she…

… She… hasn’t said anything, has she?

She hasn’t said anything. Keeping quiet about her crush has backfired and now Cranberi thinks she’s unlovable.

… Shit.

Maybe she should tell her.

No. No that’s stupid, why would she do that, Nami swore that she’d be keeping this to herself until she _dies_. There has to be another way to make Cran see the light. Maybe she could get someone to compliment her? No, wait, that would just make her suspicious – the last time someone tried to get that close to Cran, they almost got robbed. Strangers complimenting her aren’t welcome.

Then what would be welcome!? Nami doing the complimenting obviously isn’t working!

Maybe… maybe if she just kept up with it? The very idea makes her pull the edges of her cloak over her face to hide her blush. If she just keeps complimenting Cranberi over time, maybe she’ll just end up accepting them.

This is a bad plan. She’s going to end up letting something slip.

And then everything’s going to be awkward and Cran will stop treating her the same and they’ll stop being as close and then one day Cran’s just going to start adventuring on her own and Nami’s going to end up sobbing into Barnaby’s shoulder and—

She may be panicking. But she still needs to do something. She _needs_ to do something.

“Nami?”

Oh gods damn it.

She flounders for an emotion that’s not ‘embarrassed’ and comes up short. “Cranberi!”

Cran followed her, because of course she did, because she’s sweet and kind and all those things she was saying she wasn’t and- and Nami’s still mad at her! Even if she looks really concerned. “Are you alright? I’m sorry about whatever I said that set you off.”

Nami groans. “Stop being sweet, I’m mad at you.”

“I- hm.”

She shuts her mouth but doesn’t leave.

Nami frowns up at her. Why can’t she just see herself like this? She’s always so worried about everyone, so protective. Selfless and somehow selfish at the same time. She gives everything she has to Nami, to the team as a whole, and claims them all in exchange; saying things like ‘you’re mine’ like it doesn’t play with everyone’s emotions. Like they know exactly what it means.

They all know what it means now, but the first time Cran had claimed her she didn’t know what to think. She knew, somehow, that it was a serious moment. But she didn’t know _how_ serious. Because she only learned afterward that ‘being hers’ was a lifelong commitment – not on Nami’s part, but on Cranberi’s. A pledge of loyalty. Something unbreakable.

How she got the idea that she was anything other than wonderful is beyond Nami.

Maybe she could…?

Quietly, seriously, Nami tries repeating herself:

“You’re really pretty, you know?”

Cran freezes, but she doesn’t deny it this time.

“And, and I love you a lot,” she forces herself to say, “and I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

“Nami.”

“So quit saying all that stuff about yourself.”

It’s silent for a moment.

Cranberi sighs. “… Thank you.”

“You’re _welcome_.” She says it like a curse and rubs at her mysteriously watery eyes. Cran makes a pained expression. “Besides,” she continues, because fuck it, she’s already said the ‘L’ word so she may as well go all in, “I can’t really imagine traveling with anyone other than you.”

“… Oh.”

Nami shrugs and doesn’t look at her. “Yeah.”

Silence. Cranberi’s tail flicks back and forth with how hard she’s thinking.

And then she takes a deep breath.

“I don’t… really get this stuff,” she starts, “because unless I’m reading things, just, _completely_ the wrong way, I don’t think I can… do that. The way everyone else does.”

Oh. Ouch.

“But…”

Nami looks up.

Cranberi looks surprisingly nervous. “… I do know that I love you too. And I know that I’d also have a lot of trouble, living with some… some partner that _isn’t_ you. And that’s probably not what you want in terms of, you know, relationship stability, but… it’s all I can really give. If you think you can settle with something like that.”

And Nami smiles.

“You know,” she says, voice edging into relieved laughter, “I think I can live with that if you can.”

Cranberi finally looks at her, and she sees a heartbreaking amount of hope in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”


	6. Kisia's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang has some fun.

They’re all making bread. All of them.

It’s chaos. Because it’s a ‘bonding exercise’ they’re all doing it at the same table, and they barely get thirty seconds in before everyone realizes what a bad idea that is. Nami reads the instructions Barnaby had written for all of them and immediately casts Shape Water to pull a bunch from the nearby sink rather than forsake her spot; upon reaching her, the hovering flow of water spooks nearly everyone at the table – because they are all adventurers, they’re all jumpy sometimes, and one of them is already a cat – and Nami laughs so hard at them that she loses concentration and ends up splashing everyone.

Not to be outdone, when Kilgon has quietly gotten the right amounts of yeast, water, and sugar together, he immediately whisks the bowl so violently that the mixture also ends up everywhere and he has to ask for more. Barnaby says he is a ‘gods damned menace’ and Freedon subtly switches his and Kilgon’s mixing bowls just for the anarchy. Kilgon makes absolutely sure to splash Barnaby extra well when he does the exact same thing again.

Joemin gets surprisingly into the activity, so much so that when Kilgon goes around the table to pester everyone for more materials he bends his entire upper body to shield his bowl from the elf, making himself that much more of a target. A few unfortunate Mage Hands later, Joemin is holding Kilgon by the back of his shirt and practically throwing him across the room. He lands fine, then runs back over to make Joemin ‘throw me harder, I want to see if I can do a flip’ which just makes the half-orc even more uncomfortable.

Cranberi yells at both of them, telling them not to do that because ‘you’re going to give him even more brain damage than he already has’ and doesn’t notice Nami switching everyone’s bowls around. The reactions of this vary from a half-hearted surrender (Barnaby) to a curious head-tilt (Kisia) to another, more voluntary switch between the most promising looking bowl in the bunch and the worst one (Freedon). Cranberi turns back to see ‘her’ bowl had been vandalized and glares at Nami and Freedon in particular (because it had to have been one of them) before restarting.

The flour comes out, and the team collectively lasts ten seconds before they’re all covered in the stuff. Nami laughs herself sick and has to sit down.

By the time all the ingredients are molded into dough, the ‘best bowl’ leaderboard looks like this:

Kisia  
Freedon  
Barnaby  
Cranberi  
Joemin  
Nami  
Kilgon

It’s at this point that Cranberi realizes she and Kisia will not be able to knead the dough and still have the bread be mostly edible by virtue of them both having fur that sheds everywhere, so they move away to watch the proceedings. Now out of range of whatever happens, they both begin commentating on the rest of the table’s activities between laughter.

Kilgon starts throwing his chunk of dough in the air to try spinning it like a pizza. Nami sees this and tries to do the same. Freedon and Barnaby quietly knead their extra dough from Cran and Kisia, giving each other the occasional sappy look before Nami loses control of her dough and it falls to the still-flour-covered table, coating them in an extra layer of flour and making Barnaby sneeze everywhere. Joemin ignores everyone and enjoys kneading.

With Cranberi and Kisia absent, the ending scores are:

Joemin  
Barnaby  
Freedon  
Kilgon  
Nami

Upon hearing the scores, Kilgon immediately tries tearing a chunk out of everyone’s dough to add to his own and create the ultimate bread loaf. Most of the others just let him go. Joemin carefully tears off a piece himself and shields the rest from the shorter man, offering the chunk of dough in exchange. Kilgon’s dough is now double in size. He looks back at the instructions and proclaims his dough ‘done rising’, gives himself the win, and goes to join Cranberi and Kisia at the couches.

Barnaby just shakes his head at all of them and starts covering bowls with towels, Freedon and Nami helping him place them all by some of the windows to rise.

They all gather at the couches, still covered in patches of flour, and rest.

Kisia is trying to brush flour out of her fur. “You know, I don’t think I’ve made bread before.”

Both Cranberi and Nami go ‘same’. Freedon wiggles his hand – he’s helped before, but not done it on his own.

“They should be done rising in a few hours,” Barnaby says. Cranberi reaches over to pull some flour from his hair. “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up.”

Kilgon shares a meaningful look with Nami. “You know,” he says with a grin, “I think I’ve got just the thing.”

Which is how they all end up soaked and sprawled around the front yard, Nami cackling from her place atop Kilgon’s shoulders before he ‘faints’ and brings her back down to earth. The group goes through another, calmer shower (again by a now tired Nami) to get all the mud off, and finally relax by collectively sunning on the front porch: Kilgon, Cranberi, and Kisia lying on the floor in direct sunlight while the rest fluff themselves up with towels.

Kisia closes her eyes.

“I never got to do any of this before.”

Cranberi gives her a short laugh. “What, the water fights?”

“Well, that,” the minotaur says, “and making bread. Using an actual kitchen and stuff. Never really had one of those before I met you all.”

“Really?” Kilgon scrubs at his hair. “But then how would you make salads!”

“I still made salads. I just mixed them with my hands and a bowl.”

“Fucked up,” Nami says. Cranberi quietly repeats her.

“Wait, you lived somewhere before now right?” Barnaby looks concerned. “Like, you had a house. I could’ve sworn you said you did.”

“Not really.” She shrugs. “I lived in a labyrinth? And then on the road, so there weren’t really that many kitchens I could use.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t always an adult. Wasn’t anyone taking care of you?”

She makes an unsure noise. “I mean, I got taught how to fight?”

“That’s _it_?”

Cranberi rolls her eyes. “Leave her alone Barns, not all of us get to inherit farms and live out domestic bliss.” He starts grumbling at that, but quiets down. “Hey, Kisia, how come you left the labyrinth?”

“Oh,” Kisia makes a face, “it got boring. And I didn’t like fighting all that much, so when I saw some adventurer leaving I followed them instead of killing them like I was supposed to.”

“Good on you.”

“Yeah, it was pretty great.” She shifts around to get more comfortable. “It was cool to see the ocean. I didn’t think it was real.”

Nami gasps. “You should come with us next time we visit Sojolo!”

“Sure.”

“Have you ever been?”

Kisia tilts her head, thinking. “Maybe? I’m not sure. I mostly stick to the smaller places. Villages and things. Farms too. It’s cool that I can live on one now, if I wanted.”

Freedon gestures at Cranberi. “… Freedon says ‘just say the word’.”

“Thanks.”

“Didn’t you ever settle down anywhere before the tower?” Barnaby says, leaning forward in interest.

“… No?”

“Why?”

Kisia snorts. “I mean. Look at me. Minotaurs are not that welcome in a lot of places. I’m fine on the road. Besides,” she continues despite Barnaby’s sympathetic noises, “I like it now. It’s something I’m used to. It’s just nice to know that I can come back and chill out sometimes.”

“You can,” Cranberi says.

Nami nods along with her. “Anytime!”

“Thanks guys.”

“Oh hey,” Kilgon smiles, “if you ever get the urge, you can come study at my place. Those little shits at the bottom labs would love you.”

She laughs. “I’ll think about it!”

They all lounge around for the rest of the day. Upon checking later, most of the dough seems to have turned out alright – if a bit misshapen from Kilgon’s meddling – and a few loaves go into the oven. The night is spent in the largest room in the house, eating snacks, telling stories, and playing the occasional card game before Barnaby and Freedon get tired enough to leave for their bedroom, signaling the end of ‘group bonding time’ and allowing everyone to split into separate activities: mainly ‘sleeping’ and ‘reading’.

The next morning comes a feast of breakfast foods including smoked salmon and toast, fresh fruit, pancakes, eggs, bacon…

It’s a good morning. Kisia leaves the house with a full stomach and a full bag, ready to get on the road again.


	7. Twirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joemin does some teaching.

Nami pauses. “Do you hear that?”

Joemin blinks down at her, still holding the small basket of fruit they had bought. The rest of the group should be nearby, and for a moment he panics a little – if Nami hears _trouble_ , they need to find everyone – but she doesn’t seem frightened, so he settles with just looking around and listening for whatever she hears.

The city they’re in is a busy one, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to remember its name even if he knows exactly where on the map it is. The crowds in this market are especially dense, noises bouncing off each other, the long stretch of stalls in neat aisles and bracketed by the tall stone walls of the surrounding buildings. It’s almost painfully loud, people shouting and arguing and laughing, but he forces himself to listen because he wants to know what about it caught Nami’s interest.

And suddenly he hears it.

It’s faint. Probably a bit outside the market, but this place is so packed that the noise somehow managed to travel all the way here anyway. Someone’s shouting drowns it out for a moment and he winces, but he’s heard enough to know _exactly_ what it is.

Nami’s grinning up at him, sharp teeth practically glowing in the sunlight. He gives a small, hopeful smile back. “We could…?”

“We could,” she agrees, and grabs his hand to tug him along.

He goes willingly, trusting her to steer him around obstacles while he looks around for the rest of the group. He wonders if Cranberi would like to come too? It should be simple enough to spot her, but the sheer amount of people here make it more difficult.

It’s easy to spot Kisia, though. She towers over even the tallest races here, unable to duck under stalls for fear of her horns damaging the awnings. It looks like she’s buying… wool? Nami pulls him unerringly towards her, and he taps her shoulder as soon as they’re in range even as she shouts “Kisia!”

The minotaur angles her head toward them, only a little faster than she would normally. He thinks it may be the closest thing to a surprised flinch that she has. “Nami. Joemin.”

Nami latches on to her arm, still keeping one hand in his. “Come on, come on!”

“Oh, are we leaving?”

“We can come back later, just hurry up!”

Kisia obliges, patting the smaller woman’s head fondly and finishing her business. The owner looks over all of them curiously before she’s distracted by the gold Kisia hands her for the bundles of wool, and by then they’re already moving away.

Okay, this time he’ll find Cran for sure. He looks around for dark curly hair and cat ears and – ah. Well, he spots dark hair, but it not the type he’s looking for. He points Nami in Freedon’s direction.

Freedon and Barnaby are frowning over some cooking knives when the three of them reach the stall. “Barnaby! Freedon!”

They both turn toward Nami’s voice. Barnaby steps away from the stall to greet them, and Freedon waves his own greeting before turning back to the cutlery, seemingly deciding on one without his… partner? Husband? Joemin honestly isn’t sure what their relationship status is at the moment, he’s always just considered them as a pair regardless.

He frowns… no, no they’re not married yet. He doesn’t remember a wedding.

Nami and Barnaby talk while he thinks about the possibility of Freedon and Barnaby eloping without telling anyone. He doesn’t think they would, but also… hmm.

Joemin tunes back in to Barnaby saying “Lead the way,” gesturing for Freedon – just finishing putting their new cooking knives away – to follow.

Nami trades her hold on Kisia’s arm for a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. Joemin and Freedon share a glance; the air between them is still polite at best, but when Joemin gives him a small smile he smiles back. It’s progress.

Okay. This time. This time for sure. Once again he scans the crowd for his tabaxi friend, because there are only two people missing and he’s only looking for one of them—oh gods damn it.

He’s tempted to just scoop up Kilgon as they pass like a puppy that’s escaped from its pen, but he knows that would end up being more effort than it’s worth. He points Nami in the right direction and keeps looking as they walk.

If Cranberi’s not with any of the team, then where is she?

He ignores Kilgon casually hiding a book behind his back as he greets them all. No one is fooled, but they all look over it while Nami waves for him to follow them. Where in the seven hells is Cran? She hadn’t even been the first to walk off earlier, so he can’t think of why she would be missing now.

Everyone keeps walking. Joemin’s actually getting a little nervous now. “Um, has anyone seen Cran?”

Surprisingly, it’s Kilgon who shrugs out an answer. “She walked off a few minutes ago.”

He frowns. “Which way?”

“I… don’t remember!”

Brilliant.

The sound is a lot closer now. They’re nearing the edge of the market, and he still can’t see Cranberi anywhere. He’s tempted to stop and look for her, let Nami and the others go on while he tracks down his missing friend, and he’s about to pull his hand from Nami’s grip when they reach the end of the stalls, spilling out into the city square beyond.

Oh. He relaxes. There she is.

Cranberi seems to have been waiting for them, leaning against a wall that could have held yet another market stall but instead signals the entrance of the market proper. She grins as soon as she sees them, and when Nami shouts a greeting she mimes looking at a watch (that she doesn’t have) and walks over to the group.

“I thought you’d be here a lot earlier,” she says once in hearing range, and Nami finally lets go of his hand to swat at her. Cran laughs.

The sound that drew them here in the first place surrounds all of them. There’s a thick crowd gathered around the source of it all, and Nami and Kilgon lead the charge into it with the rest of them trailing behind.

Maybe he hadn’t been thinking. Of course there would be a crowd here, Joemin thinks nervously. He considers turning tail and escaping for a moment before he feels Cranberi’s arm around his.

She looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. Damn it.

“You know,” she says casually over the joyous music, in that way she has when she’s trying to talk him into something, “I’ve never really danced with anyone before.”

That…

That was a dirty trick.

He’s irritated at how much it works, because even if there’s a crowd full of strangers and their surroundings are nearly painfully loud, he cannot let that stand. He sets the basket of fruit at the edge of the crowd, completely uncaring if he’s missing a few pieces by the end of this. Dancing is- it’s important. He’s going to teach her.

Joemin gives her glare but still pulls her into the center of the crowd where Nami and Kilgon already are. He can feel how smug she is, damn her, but she doesn’t say anything.

They take a few seconds to examine the scene.

Nami and Kilgon _are_ dancing. Sort of. He knows Nami can dance, because they’ve done it before, but it seems like she’s only bothering to do the minimum of proper form now. Kilgon is much the same – it’s obvious in the way he holds himself that he knows how to do it in a proper setting, but he’s actively choosing to instead move fast and free. If Joemin were less nervous about the onlookers he might have joined them, but right now he’s got another goal.

He knows the rest of the group are just behind them, but he ignores it. “Alright. I’m going to teach you to dance.”

She just looks at him, smiling. He _really_ wishes he could be more angry about this. “Mhm?”

Ignoring that. “Your left hand goes on my shoulder,” he says and puts it in the correct place, “and my right goes on your back.

“Okay, I’m going to be leading, so when I step forward you step back and when I go back you come forward. Here,” he steps forward as he’d been taught, and she steps back. He winces. “Ah, a bit of a smaller step. Okay, good. Now I step back,” and she steps forward. “Good! Alright, now while we do that we’re supposed to be going in a circle, so when I go forward you step back first, and then take… two? Two small steps to this side, and when I go back take another two steps. Alright?”

Her eyes narrow in concentration, already looking down at their feet. Well, at least she won’t step on him. “Alright.”

“Slowly at first.”

And they begin.

It doesn’t fit the music at all, but this is just to teach her. They stay in the same small space until Cranberi stops looking down, and then it’s only a few seconds before she’s taking bigger steps and having him match _her_ instead. He rolls his eyes at her cheek and obliges with some larger circles for them to twirl around in.

Actually, out of the corner of his eye he sees Freedon and Barnaby trying the same dance. It sweet, and the smile he gets is completely involuntary – they’re battling inexperience as well as a severe height difference, but with how slow they’re moving they should be fine.

Looking around, he sees both Kilgon and Nami trying to corral Kisia into the same sort of dancing; however, it mostly ends up with the two of them quickly dancing around her and Kisia holding her hands out on every other beat to twirl the both of them. They take full advantage, most likely making themselves dizzy in the process.

That’s a good idea, actually.

“Alright, next step,” he tells Cranberi when she looks confident enough, “is twirling. Usually we would stop dancing and I would guide you into a twirl, but…?”

She snorts, catching his meaning. “Let’s just _go_!”

The first twirl is slow, and they get right back to the steps after.

He has to ask one last time: “Are you sure?”

She pulls him into the next steps completely on her own. “Yes, Joemin.”

“Alright!”

And then they _dance_.

Finally in beat with the music around them, the effect the faster pace has on him is breathtaking. They twist and turn around the opening in the crowd, only ‘circling’ in the barest sense of the word. Steps quick, turns getting larger and larger until they’re stepping too large to stay as close and have to slow down. Joemin gives her a twirl every few seconds, not bothering to stop moving because he knows that’s not what she wants out of this. She wants fast. She wants fun.

He does too.

He’s missed this. Dancing freely, not caring who’s looking. He’s glad he didn’t run. He’s glad Cranberi can force this kind of feeling out of him again. He wishes… he wishes she could have met her. They would have gotten along famously, he thinks.

Joemin grins and keeps giving Cran twirls until she’s laughing and dizzy. Barnaby and Freedon are moving faster, both of them frequently stopping to complain at the other for stepping on their feet before getting right back into it. Nami’s guiding Kisia like Joemin had been guiding Cran, the two of them moving slow, Kisia looking painfully aware of where she’s stepping. Kilgon’s forsaken regular dancing it seems, instead going right to the center of them all and twirling hard enough to make his skirt flutter out in a near-perfect circle.

The music is perfect. The day is perfect.

They keep dancing.


	8. To Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedon has A Time.

Linan’s body twists into itself. The magic keeping her hardened carapace apparently pushed beyond its limit, sending the oozing, pitch-black liquid inside splashing all around her as it heaves and eventually fails. Freedon watches it happen, watches her terrifying, arachnid, robotic form contort and explode in a messy fountain of black. He sees some spots of black falling at him and knows he’s too slow to dodge it; he hopes, prays that it won’t bring any ill effects, prays that the injuries he’s already sustained in this fight would not be added to.

The sludge spatters on his cheek, right below his left eye.

Freedon Gordman blinks and looks around.

He’s… on a ship. A rowboat tied to each side, one more hastily than the other. Five combatants- a sixth coming up from below. Tense. Armed. He’s in the middle of a fight.

The knife he keeps in his boot is now in his hand. He plunges it into the nearest one’s shoulder all the way to the hilt – they give a sharp gasp of surprise. He pulls it out and does it again in a different spot, somewhere on their back. Shouting erupts all around him. He lets them fall.

The second comes in fast, furious. They’re huge. He dodges the bolt they fire at him and slice at their legs in just the right spot, sending them to their knees. He gets close, ready to cut them open at the throat, take one more body out of the party against him, when he feels a wave of magic along his back that jolts him just enough to be a distraction, leaving his quarry alive.

Sleep magic. Too bad.

He turns, knife at the ready. A shorter opponent, one with hair that almost- _almost_ \- reminds him of simpler times. But he’s killed halflings before. He can just close his eyes for this one.

A voice in his head. _“Holy shit,”_ it says, _“stop! We’re not here to fight_ you _!”_ It’s not his voice. He ignores it.

A triton charges him, obviously aiming for a non-vital point. Their mistake. He steps around their lunge and puts his blade to their inner arm, and they lose their weapon when they flinch away with a scream.

“Nami!”

A familiar voice. It’s fake.

But it’s coming from the halfling.

It’s _fake_.

The sunlight overhead flares painfully as another spell hits him. Shit. He squints but can’t make out distinct forms, and so he flails out wildly with his knife. It catches something. He hears fabric tear, but no pain. He tries again.

Two large hands wrap around his own and guide him down to the floor before he can kick his attacker. He struggles, straining with adrenaline, but can’t force his way out. The fingers holding his knife are wrenched apart. His only weapon clatters to the ground.

He will not die today. Freedon leans his face into one of the hands holding him and _bites_.

Fur and blood coat his tongue, but he doesn’t get much else. Just a grunt of pain.

His eyesight clears.

He’s pinned on his side against the deck of the ship, a minotaur looming above him. Both of their hands hold his flush against the wooden floor even with one of their wrists bleeding sluggishly into his mouth. He makes eye contact with them and bites down harder.

He will not die today. Not when his task is so close to being over.

“God damn,” someone says. A woman’s voice. “Where did he even get that knife?”

“He keeps it in his boot,” the familiar voice says. “Here, come here.”

“I got it Barns, take care of Nami. Joemin?”

A jovial voice pipes up, “well that was unexpected.”

“You’re telling me. Joemin, hey, it’s okay. We’re fine.”

“He _stabbed_ you.”

A laugh. “I know.”

“Anywhere else, Nami?”

“I’m good. Thanks, Barnaby.”

Barnaby.

“Don’t worry about it. Kisia? You alright?”

The minotaur speaks. “He’s biting me.”

Damn right he is. If he digs in any harder he’ll crack his jaw.

“Fuck,” the one they call ‘Barnaby’ says, “okay, okay. Let me see him.”

The halfling comes into view.

Freedon pulls his lip back at the sight of him, a silent and blood-coated snarl that would send a lesser man reaching for a weapon. But the small axe hanging from the man’s belt goes untouched even as his steps faulter.

Everyone surrounding him seems to hold their breath. He shakes his head, trying to tear at the minotaur’s hand like a dog with a toy, but it doesn’t budge.

The halfling clenches his jaw and brings his hands up. One goes to his chin, in an ‘F’ sign that changes into ‘orange’ as his eyebrows lower in hesitant question.

_‘Freedon?’_

Freedon blinks.

That’s. That’s Barnaby. That’s Barnaby’s name for him. That’s _Barnaby_. Here. In front of him. Freedon can look at him for the first time in seventeen years and he’s here and he’s—

He’s not real. Freedon takes a deep breath.

He can’t be real.

But even as he thinks it, his body relaxes. The minotaur pulls their hand from his mouth and slowly relaxes their hold. He spits out their blood, feeling the small fibers of fur clinging to his teeth, but doesn’t bother taking his eyes off the thing that acts like Barnaby.

He looks different. Freedon didn’t expect it.

The hair is longer, for one. Flowing and graying in streaks, reaching down just past his shoulders – Freedon remembers when his hair had been that long, remembers Barns brushing it back when he was too tired and frustrated and his hands had been shaking too hard to do it himself. The lines under his eyes are heavier, about as heavy as they might be in reality.

Even with the differences, he looks like Barnaby. He looks so much like his friend it hurts.

“Okay,” Barnaby sighs. “Okay, I- yeah. I think the fuckin’ _goop_ did something.”

Sounds like Barns. Freedon tries to lunge at him.

Someone else comes up behind him. A tabaxi, the one he had stabbed. “Memory loss?”

“Seems like.”

“Fuck.” She almost reaches down to Freedon before having second thoughts. “It can’t be permanent, right?”

“It’d better fucking not be!” The thing that looks like Barnaby snarls.

Memory loss? He hasn’t heard that one before, but it would fit considering he doesn’t remember setting foot on a boat recently.

Barnaby-mimic frowns down at him. The same sort of frown he used to get when he couldn’t sleep, the furrowing of the brows and the worried curl of the lip practically the same. So worried that he looks angry. “Wait, wait, wait. Okay, we can’t really do anything about memory loss right now, unless someone has a spell or something? … That’s a no, then. But we can get him to stop fighting, I think.”

The minotaur leans back, allowing him a little more room to see. There are a few more people on the deck now, a mix between those obviously in this party and a crew of pirates. “You think?”

“Just… just hold him still.”

And then he gets closer.

Even without the movement, the phrase ‘hold him still’ has Freedon struggling twice as hard. It’s no use; he’s truly trapped here, just watching death approach wearing his friend’s face.

It could be worse, he thinks. At least he got to see Barns again in a way.

A hand touches his cheek.

A hand. Touches his cheek?

It’s warm. Calloused. Gentle. And it’s Barnaby’s.

Illusions are supposed to shatter when you touch them.

“First night we saw each other again,” Barnaby, the _real_ Barnaby, says quietly as Freedon’s mind reels, “we shared a room. And you don’t remember, but later- later you told me that you freaked out when you couldn’t hear me snoring. And you pulled that knife of yours and came over to poke me with it, make sure I was real.

“I caught you before you did,” he continues, “’cause I wasn’t able to sleep right since you went missing. Killed in action, they told me. And you never really said what happened, but after that night I got an idea.”

He leans in close. Freedon realizes his hands are free.

“What year is it, Freedon?”

He answers. It’s easy. He’s been counting the days, months, years to a point. It’s the only thing he forces himself to remember.

And Barns shakes his head.

“It’s four years later.”

That time span being said so casually nearly chokes him.

He realizes, no, this _is_ fake. All of it, even if it touches him, it’s all fake. A wish. A dream. They haven’t even hurt him, so how would he be able to tell otherwise? His body isn’t real until it bleeds, and all the wounds on him currently had been there when he came into awareness.

It doesn’t matter what Barnaby tells him. It doesn’t matter that he shoves his knife back into his boot and boosts himself to sit on his knees in front of his friend. Doesn’t matter what numbers the people around him are saying, the comforting words, the bickering.

This is a dream. He’s going to enjoy it.

So he wraps his arms around Barnaby and doesn’t think about anything else.

\---

Freedon Gordman blinks awake and looks around.

Barnaby’s familiar weight is pressed up against his side, but the shorter man is obviously awake with the lack of noise in the room. Freedon shifts, running a hand over his boyfriend’s (!!!) shoulder in the slow climb to full awareness.

Barnaby sits up like he’s been electrocuted, sudden enough that Freedon is awake _now_. “Freedon?”

Why is he saying it like that? _‘What is it?’_

“Are you- do you remember what happened yesterday?”

Yesterday? He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, but— _oh fuck._

He sits up. _‘Linan? Did we do it?’_

Is the team alright? He doesn’t even remember the fight, the last thing he’d seen was Barns and Cran rowing away to infiltrate the tower and helping Kilgon’s crew prep the cannons. Did he really get hit hard enough to knock the entire rest of the day out of his head? Obviously Barnaby’s okay enough to be in his bed, but what about the others?

For some reason, Barns breaks out a smile bright enough to blind him.

“Yeah, babe. We did it.”


	9. Take a Nap, alt. version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freedon doesn't get that nap, actually.

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Something on my face?”

_‘Thinking.’_

She waits. “… About?”

_‘Joining you for a nap.’_

Cranberi blinks. “I- well, I guess you’re- welcome to? Yeah, I mean, you can if you want?”

Freedon takes another second to consider it and, okay, maybe he does want.

_‘Scooch over.’_

She does. Her tail flicks back and forth where it hangs off the bed: either she’s thinking hard, or she doesn’t know what to think, and he’s pretty sure he knows which it is. But she said it was alright, so he’s going to do it. Plus, he’s _heard_ her when people sometimes nudge up to her in their sleep – Joemin and Nami get the honor most often, but Barnaby has told him in detail how nice it is to sleep next to Cran, and he’s witnessed the girl cuddling up to Kisia’s absolute wall of warmth more than once.

Cranberi purrs hard enough to rattle all of them. Freedon is going to use it to his advantage and maybe, _maybe_ , have a nice goddamn nap.

But first. _‘You’ll tell me if you get uncomfortable.’_

“Uh, sure? Yeah.”

Great. He moves onto the bed. Or, well, he sets one knee on the bed before something catches him – fuck, he still has armor on. It was comfortable downstairs, surrounded by people who would likely have no qualms sticking a blade in him just to get some gold, but here with Cranberi it just seems stiff. Excessive.

Yes, he used to sleep in armor all the time. He had no choice, not really; either sleep in armor or waste the few seconds it takes to outfit himself before he has to fight his way out of whatever fresh hell the world decided to throw at him. The thing is, he doesn’t want that for himself anymore! He’s older now – his scars ache and twinge when the temperature changes, he’s slowly going gray either from stress or just plain _age_. And Cranberi is the only person here.

She’s not… he nods to himself. Cranberi is a lot of things, but she’s not unkind with these things. He can be comfortable here.

So he steps back to the ground and starts working on the belts and harnesses around his chainmail. Cran gives a soft sound of understanding and puts her head on her knees to wait. He doesn’t have many buckles to wrestle with, thankfully, but removing them makes him feel better already. He pulls them off, bundles them, places them on the ground beside the bed, and starts pulling off the chainmail.

It’s somehow bulky and loose all at once. Barns regularly says if it weren’t obviously made of metal he would mistake it for a burlap sack.

He slides the damn thing over his head and holds it in his arms, taking a moment to breathe. Feel the air on his skin.

And then he makes the mistake of looking at Cranberi.

Her eyes are _wide_. He has to swallow a split second of panic, mind going a mile a minute – was he wrong about her? – but then he realizes. She’s never seen him without his armor.

She sits up and points a disbelieving claw at him. “What the _fuck_ are you wearing!”

He can’t help the smug smile as he holds out his arms so she can get a better look.

“Don’t fucking pose at me!” She’s practically breathless with contained laughter. “What is _that_! How long have you been wearing that?”

_‘It’s my crop top.’_

It’s a simple one, too. Full sleeves, even, so he’s not cold. The only difference between his regular shirts and his crop tops is that one is obviously shorter than the other, and they’re not even that short! So they go part of the way down his stomach instead of tucking into his pants. So what? They’re comfy, especially in warm weather.

Oh, he knows what he looks like. First time he took off his armor in front of Barnaby the man had gone silent for a full ten minutes and looked anywhere else in the room. Sure, he didn’t know what that had meant at the time, but he’s long figured it out by now – he looks good. He looks _good_. And what’s more, he _feels_ good.

Cran makes a strangled sound. “Has that been under there this entire time?”

 _‘No. Gross.’_ He scoffs at her. _‘Why would I wear the same one every day? I change them out.’_

“You fucker, you know what I mean!”

He does, but he’s also having fun. _‘What, is it not flattering?’_

The room goes silent. He gives her about five seconds to process, then strikes a pose.

Cranberi nearly _screams_ in laughter. She slaps a paw over her mouth but it’s too late to stop it; she bends double, clutching at her sides and sharp teeth bared in the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her. And he does know what her laugh sounds like – it’s not too special, maybe a little more wheezing than average - but this one is so obviously intense that its contagious.

He’s already smiling hard enough that his cheeks hurt, but one high-pitched, desperate inhale suddenly sends him into stitches. He gives up on posing to put a hand on the mattress just to keep himself standing, and it doesn’t completely work. Every time he thinks he’s done, his breathing stutters or he hears another ragged inhale from her and starts all over again.

By the time the noise winds down they’re both collapsed on the bed. Cranberi is groaning and on her side, still giving short little hiccups of joy that only build when she tries to stop them. Freedon is on his back at the foot of the bed with actual tears in his eyes, trying to breathe deeply with his entire face feeling red and sore. Gods, he has a headache now.

He signs as much. _‘Ow, headache.’_

A whine comes from where Cran is laying. “Shut up. This is your fault.”

_‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’_

She giggles. “You’re such an asshole.”

They’re not getting any sleep after this. The watch shift is going to be _miserable_ , but Freedon can’t help but think it was a little bit worth it.


	10. Dizzy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dnd party with discounted alcohol, what will they do?  
> I just have Freedon & Cranberi on the brain I guess.
> 
> If you're uncomfortable with alcohol mentions, you might want to skip this chapter.

Everything is fine.

It actually is, for once. Nothing’s going on right now – they’re in the middle of one of those rare peaceful periods where there’s nothing to worry about other than what the next meal will be, and even that’s not a fully realized problem. The group is in the middle of a little town, and being ‘big spenders’ at the local inn merely due to all of them being present has given them a lot of leeway with the people here.

There are a ton of benefits that come with being friends with folks in small towns. They’re horrible gossips, for one, so if something comes up while they’re here they’ll probably be able to ask around and find a lead. Word gets around fast that they have money to spend, so they don’t have to search out a service for long.

And, much to most of their delight, drinks are discounted with a room purchase.

Kilgon takes his leave pretty early - he’s not a big fan of alcohol or its effects on people - but the rest of them take full advantage.

Joemin stays mostly sober, only indulging when Nami or Cranberi tells him something tastes ‘real good’ and he should have a sip. He’s keeping careful watch on everyone and guards his glass of water with his life, seemingly torn between distancing himself from the two women to avoid more alcohol and sticking close to catch them in case they fall over.

Barnaby, on the other hand, goes and gets himself beer-drunk in no time and is now spending the night regaling a steadily growing collection of townsfolk about their adventures. Nami is helping him, nursing her own glass of pale pink something-or-other, and they get into an argument every other minute about the specifics of the tale and what had been whose fault and why. They’re currently talking about the expedition with Eliah, which Barnaby hadn’t even been present for, so Nami’s interrupting him every few seconds. Yes, they fought a goddess. Yes, she did turn into a dragon. Yes, she is a bitch.

Kisia, having been the one to actually slay this goddess-dragon, is sitting quietly at the same table occasionally sipping on something that looks like how winter smells. No one can tell what level of sobriety she’s at – she’s too still, speaking too little – but Kisia herself knows she is just fine, thank you.

Freedon and Cranberi are sitting together at the bar, their backs to the rest of the party and signing amongst themselves. Their movements are startlingly fast and not at all comprehensible to anyone but the two of them. They are both absolutely drunk as hell and enjoying it.

_‘I thought it was just luck!’_

_‘It kind of is,’_ Cran signs, taking another swig. Whatever is in her cup is brown and tastes like cocoa, so she loves it. _‘Grithon is about balance and planned stuff. You know how much you have to plan things to make them balanced? That’s so much!’_

Freedon’s nose wrinkles. _‘How is what C does different?’_

_‘I like her more.’_

They both start laughing at that. Sober, Cranberi laughs harsh and wheezing, but now all her volume has drained away and it’s just squeaks of air. Freedon thinks it’s hilarious. _‘C doesn’t plan things like that. She’s like. Right now?’_

_‘Present?’_

_‘Yes, that’s the word, I was about to fucking lose it.’_ She gives him a surprisingly soft pat on the shoulder before continuing. _‘C is present. Grithon is… all, I think? Punishment and reward. Planned. C is luck. K-A-R-M-A. Not planned.’_

_‘Cran I can’t fucking spell right now.’_

“’s karma,” she says quietly, and doesn’t bother talking more. This is a signing conversation. It’s sign time.

_‘It works?’_

_‘Sure it does.’_ Another sip. _‘Hard to tell sometimes but every lucky break is her deal. Or. Maybe it wasn’t, but me thinking it makes it her deal and gives her power to actually give luck. Dunno. I like to think about it.’_

Freedon huffs. _‘I think you’re the only one thats deity actually likes you.’_

She blinks, obviously trying to puzzle out that sentence. He flaps his hands at her. _‘C likes you. Mine doesn’t like me like that. No ones’ does.’_

 _‘C likes me,’_ Cran signs, _‘because I’m helping her a big- a lot. Gods are not- they don’t think like us. C is weird ‘cause I think she was almost gone.’_

_‘Gone?’_

_‘Almost. Maybe?’_

Freedon takes a large gulp of his own drink now, using the seconds it takes to think it over. _‘So you saved her?’_

She shrugs. _‘Maybe it was just a little, but when’s the last time gods needed help from us? Dunno if she was even gonna die, maybe she was just sleeping or whatever. But it looks like I’m a person keeping her awake, so.’_

_‘She likes you.’_

Cranberi sniffles, seemingly overcome with emotion. _‘It’s really cool.’_

_‘Don’t cry!’_

_‘I’m not crying!’_ She scrubs at one of her eyes. _‘C is just good and nice and I like that she likes me.’_

_‘And gave you Bo.’_

_‘And gave us Bo!’_ Cranberi smacks the bar counter a few times in excitement. _‘He’s such a good boy!’_

_‘He’s so good.’_

_‘He’s so good.’_

_‘I love him.’_

_‘Me too me too.’_

_‘I want a giant bug pet,’_ Freedon pouts. _‘Why did you and Joemin get one but not me?’_

_‘We’re cooler than you.’_

He elbows her. She elbows him back. _‘Mean. You’re all so mean to me every day.’_

She laughs again, squeaking into her cup like she’s trying to muffle it. He starts laughing at the sound. _‘Leave me alone I never had a pet before.’_

_‘NEVER?’_

_“Mother hated them,’_ she signs and takes another swig. _‘Don’t really get why. Maybe just ‘cause she’s a bitch.’_

_‘She is.’_

_‘She is.’_ Cran sighs, thinking. _‘She was so awful. Hate parents.’_

_‘Same.’_

They toast.

_‘Want me to kill her? I will totally kill her for you.’_

She sputters out another laugh. _‘No?’_

_‘Is that a question?’_

Cranberi tries in vain to stop scrunching her eyebrows. _‘No?’_

_‘I’ll do it.’_

_‘Don’t?’_

_‘I will.’_

_‘Stop!’_

The ‘stop’ cuts right in front of his face, her claws nearly hitting his glasses so he can’t see that her eyebrows are still lowered. He grins and pushes her hands away again. _‘Listen. Listen listen listen.’_

_‘I don’t hear anything.’_

_‘Fuck you.’_ They start laughing again. _‘I’m going to pass out as soon as I stand up but listen. You just have to point me to a person and I will just dead them.’_

_‘Dead them?’_

He nods seriously, ignoring how dizzy it makes him. From the outside it doesn’t look serious at all, he’s just bobbing his head, but neither of them realize that so it doesn’t matter. _‘Dead them so much.’_

 _‘Freedon,’_ Cranberi signs back, _‘you’re the only bastard here that can handle me.’_

_‘God damn right I am.’_

_‘Do not kill my Mother.’_

He pouts at her, disappointed. _‘Is stabbing okay?’_

 _‘If we’re within stabbing distance,’_ she rolls her eyes, _‘I can just do it myself.’_

 _‘You won’t, though.’_ Freedon turns away, continuing one-handed while he takes another sip. _‘Too nice.’_

_‘… Maybe.’_

Cranberi folds her arms on the bar and rests her head on them. Freedon rubs at her shoulder.

“I hate her,” she mumbles into the fur of her arms. His hand moves to her hair, being as careful as he can with the curls. “She could’ve just not had kids. Would’ve been easy.”

_‘I know.’_

“An’ I want to go find her sometimes,” she continues. “Like, I think about it an’ shit. I shouldn’t but it just, like, it happens, ‘cause I’m some fuckin’- uh- mas- sadist? That one, but for me. I’m that and it sucks.”

_‘Same.’_

“It’s stupid ‘cause I’m…”

She buries her face in her arms. Freedon frowns at her, concerned, but after a few seconds she comes back up and begins signing again. _‘It’s stupid because I’m very very happy to be with everyone and I don’t know why I think telling her about what I did will make her good. Stupid idea.’_

He nods. _‘Fuck her.’_

 _‘Fuck her and everyone like her.’_ Cranberi stares into her cup, seeming to debate something, and drains it. _‘I didn’t actually think about how happy I am. It’s weird.’_

 _‘RIGHT?’_ She laughs, so Freedon goes on. _‘Linan was a bust but I got to see Barns again and meet all of you. And we can just go live on his farm whenever we want? I don’t know if it’s ever been this good.’_

She huffs. _‘Shame about the world almost ending every other year.’_

He flaps a hand at her. _‘We’ve got it, it’s fine.’_

 _‘Yeah. I still worry about a lot, but this is good. I’m happy.’_ She takes a deep breath. _‘Holy shit, I really am.’_

_‘And it’s great.’_

_‘And it’s great.’_

Freedon drains his glass. _‘I am so fucking drunk but hell yes.’_

_‘We should probably go to bed.’_

_‘Probably.’_

Neither of them move.

Freedon stares at her. To anyone watching his expression would seem bored, bland, but Cranberi can see that little twitch at the corner of his mouth. Cranberi stares back, absolutely refusing to give in first. They both know, without a doubt, if they try to stand they’ll both immediately fall over and injure themselves.

It’s just a matter of who falls and who gets to sit and laugh at them. It’s a point of _pride_.

_‘Ladies first.’_

_‘Fuck you no.’_

_‘What are you offering?’_

_‘What are you?’_

They both think on it.

 _‘You go first,’_ Cran signs, _‘and I’ll sew something that looks like a bug on one of Barn’s shirts.’_

He thinks on it. _‘You go first, and I’ll carry Kilgon until the next town.’_

_‘Where’s the next town?’_

_‘About a day north.’_

She frowns. _‘You go first and I’ll let Kilgon pick an outfit for me.’_

_‘And wear it?’_

_‘Yeah.’_

After a few hard seconds of dilemma, Freedon pushes himself out of his chair. He immediately falls to the ground, his head making a satisfying _clonk_ against the floor, and proceeds to not move until Joemin walks over to help him up. Cranberi is practically sobbing against the bar the entire time.


End file.
